Perfect's DMV

I'm sure we've all heard the Walgreens commercials about a little town called Perfect where elderly ladies always cross the street with an escort, neighbors greet each other by name, and everyone firmly believes in recycling.

Today I entered their DMV.

I drove into my 2-hour parking space with a sinking feeling. Past experience with the DMV has taught me to block off a sizable chunk of time before entering said building, but I continued on (I was pretty sure I wouldn't get in anyway with only 1.5 hours standing between me and closing time). A man standing behind a large desk greeted me, decided I was worthy of their time and attention, and then handed me a number: 755. That's a big number, the kind that indicates you will be waiting in line...forever.

I walked into the waiting room. As I was looking at the three rows of empty chairs, trying to decide which one I would sit in, an automated voice said, "Now serving number 7-5-5." A happy attendant took my papers and gave me a set of license plates in return.

I was there a grand total of 10 minutes (and that includes a conversation with a cute, dirt-covered 5 year old who wanted me to stay and then demanded I say hello to his two brothers and mother).

Welcome to Perfect!